


you're the light I follow

by ivyxwrites



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, I guess bluepulse is there but only if you like squint, I'm not sure how to tag this, M/M, and I've decided to try and write something worthy of her, it's more like Jaime being Bart's best friend but also their friendship? very gay, season 3 took Joan away from us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyxwrites/pseuds/ivyxwrites
Summary: Coming from an apocalyptic future, Bart always thought he'd come to terms with the death of his loved ones. When Barry calls him with the news, however, he realizes he's ill equipped to deal with grief. Impulse, now turned Kid Flash, wishes sometimes that he hadn't gotten so comfortable in the past that he forgot what hurt and tragedy felt like. First Wally, now Joan. Bart can't help but run, because there's nothing he's better at, and he wishes he could keep running.
Relationships: Bart Allen & Jaime Reyes, Bart Allen & Jay Garrick & Joan Garrick, Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes, Jay Garrick/Joan Garrick
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	you're the light I follow

**Author's Note:**

> I know Joan dying in Young Justice sucked and no one wanted to be reminded of that, but this story has been sitting in my drafts for a couple of months now. I recently went through the passing of a dear friend of mine and have had trouble coping and processing it, which is why I've turned to fanfic writing once more. I picked this draft up without realizing how much it meant to me, at the time, and realized halfway through finishing that I had a lot of personal feelings playing in this. 
> 
> Sadness aside, I think season 3 did a horrible job with Joan's passing. They mentioned it, very briefly, had Bart be way too mature about it, and then absolutely forgot all about it. With this story, I wasn't only working through my own personal issues, but I hoped I did Bart and the Flashfamily some justice by allowing them the righteous grief they deserved. Everyone copes with losing a loved one differently (as I have very recently personally experienced) and I wanted to depict that through every member of the speedster family. 
> 
> Additionally, if you have lost someone you cared for recently (or even not that recently) and are looking for some semblence of peace, I hope you know that everything passes. Reach out to the people who love you and if you feel like it's too much, remember that you can always ask for help. Especially now, that the whole world is going through times of uncertainty, keep in mind that your mental health comes first. I hope this small piece, more than bringing you down, can comfort you in an odd sort of way. 
> 
> I promise to write happier things soon. For us and for the entire world. 
> 
> As always, I have to thank my wonderful beta, Lyssa, who has been the best this past couple of days helping me through working this fic out and with being an amazing friend (who learned the magic of WhatsApp just so she could talk to me more regularly). To National_Nobody, I can't thank you enough for updating [ Remember Me (the Story of Us) ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859702/chapters/44762326) with which you brought me right back into writing during these very trying times. You guys should listen to me and go check out her story, which will probably become the Bluepulse bible soon enough. 
> 
> Title is from Carrie Underwood's [ See You Again ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTnWFT3DvVA) which has helped me through some really needed crying sessions during this quarantine.

When Bart gets the call, he runs. 

  
  


It’s maybe not the smartest decision. He’s just come back from a mission with the Outsiders, and he’s already had his energy bar earlier. If Bart had a single brain cell still working, he would’ve stopped himself when he tripped somewhere in the middle of Letonia, but all Kid Flash did was get back up and keep on running. 

  
  


He had done this too, twenty minutes after Wally had ceased to exist. 

  
  


Bart is only barely aware when his grandfather appears as he passes Central City for the fourth time, but he pays Barry no attention. He wasn’t even trying to get his grandson to stop, so Bart keeps running, keeps putting one foot in front ofthe other, and tries not to think about going back home, where there’s only going to be one Garrick waiting for him and not two. 

  
  


God, he shouldn’t have thought about that. 

  
  


Kid Flash is already running on fumes by the time he’s reached South America for the seventh time, so when he trips over air and Barry catches him, he doesn’t fight it. He lets his grandfather run them to a stop on some coastline and thinks about how much Joan would’ve liked the caribbean blue of the sea stretching out in front of him. 

  
  


The first sobs come out of him like someone had suddenly opened the doors to an overflowing dam a little too fast. In a fit of anger (or grief), Bart rips his goggles off his head, and throws them in the sand, uncaring of where they end up. There’s red and gold in his view, then, and spandex under his cheek, as Barry holds him to his chest a little too tightly. 

  
  


Bart wants to push him away, to tell the older speedster he is not a child, but he’s already run himself dry. There’s not enough fight in him anymore. 

  
  


At some point, they end up sitting on the sand and Bart is hugging back. It’s too hot on this beach and the suits are not helping, but the two speedsters hold onto each other, trying to chase grief away now that they can’t outrun it. Bart doesn’t know when Barry started crying too, but he’s glad, in a weird sort of way, to not be alone in this. 

  
  


(Jay didn’t come after him this time. Jay  _ always  _ came for him.)

  
  


Exhaustion hits him like a freight train a little later. Barry must be feeling moded as well, because he calls in for transport through the comlink hiding in the lightning bolts adorning his suit’s cowl. He doesn’t offer any word of advice, no quip or witty retort, no stupid pun that no one laughs at but him. The Flash is only quiet, as blue eyes stare into green. Bart doesn’t know what he would’ve prefered, but it’s definitely not this. 

  
  


Less than a minute later, and faster than Kid Flash would’ve thought, there’s a  _ whooshing _ sound and black boots landing on the sand next to his grandfather. 

  
  


“Transport for two?” 

  
  


Hal Jordan. 

  
  


The two speedsters don’t say a word, as they pick themselves up off the ground. Barry takes his goggles before stepping into the construct Hal has made for them, and only holds Bart by his waist when Kid Flash’s legs fail him. In his head, Joan’s soft voice chides him for not taking care of himself. 

  
  


There’s a sob bubbling up in his throat. Bart swallows it down and wipes furiously at his eyes before the fresh tears start sliding down his cheeks. 

  
  


He’d be a lot more excited about wormhole travel under different circumstances, but Bart isn’t in the right headspace to think about the scientific implications of Hal’s ring’s navigation system at the moment. Kid Flash is numb, as Green Lantern slings them through space to reach Keystone City again in record time, colors passing by in a split second before disappearing altogether again. 

  
  


The Garricks house comes into view. Jay is sitting in the reclining chair Bart had gotten for them last Christmas, its companion piece sitting vacant next to it. 

  
  


He wants to throw up.

  
  


“It’s time to be with family, Kid,” Hal’s voice is soft as he presses a gentle hand between his shoulder blades. “Jay needs you. It’s okay to need him too.” 

  
  


When Bart turns back to look at the Green Lantern, the uniform is gone, replaced by Jordan’s trademark white t-shirt and brown jacket. The youngest Allen has been living in the past for a little over two years now, and so he’s become acquainted with his grandfather’s friendships and some of the older heroes. Hal Jordan wasn’t around much, being the most powerful Green Lantern in the universe and all that, but he was around enough that Bart considered him just as much a part of the Flash family as he himself was. It seemed oddly fitting to have him here. Delivering him and Barry to where they were supposed to be.

  
  


“I--” the words don’t come out, lodged in his throat, as Bart watches Jay get up from his place--slowly, like no speedster should--shuffling down the couple of steps leading to the pathway to the graying fence that used to be green. 

  
  


“It’s okay, Bart,” Barry is on his other side now, kneeling down to look up at Bart instead of the other way around--it doesn’t matter is he’s already hit his first growth spurt a few months back, the Flash would still do his best to treat him like a kid, “Your family is here for you. We’re all getting through this  _ together _ .” 

  
  


The emphasis is nice. Bart hadn’t really had a family back in the future, no matter how much he had read up on all of them while growing up. In the past, his family was alive, even if watching his dad grow up was unconventional, and he would come home almost every night after missions to a full dinner and the cheesy movies Barry really loved watching. 

  
  


When Barry stands up to his full height again, Bart watches him share a short look with Hal over his head. Kid Flash lets it go and decides to walk towards the fence. It should be worrying that both Allens are still in full costume, standing right outside the Garricks house, but it’s an odd sort of comfort to not be in civvies right now. He knows he’ll eventually have to change, but for now, his bright yellow and red suit gives him the courage he needs. 

  
  


Jay waits for him in the middle of the cobblestone, arms spread wide open. His eyes, which had always seemed so warm and content to Bart despite slanting downward, were red at the edges and puffy. As soon as Kid Flash reaches his guardian, the former Flash wraps his arms around red-clad shoulders, and brings him close to his chest. 

  
  


He’s seen death before, up close. Bart lived in an apocalyptic future, where the people he loved were ripped from him and everyone he ever met had gotten the fight punched out of them. Kid Flash had escaped death himself, and had watched others unable to escape that fate. It shouldn’t be this hard anymore. 

  
  


But something inside Bart  _ breaks _ .

  
  


“I’m so sorry,” Bart’s voice comes out wobbly, muffled against Jay’s cotton button-up, “ _i should have been there, jay, i should have stayed and held her hand to the end i’m so sorry she didn’t deserve to be alone she deserved better and i should have been there for you and for her and i wasn’t i_ __loved her so much jay i am so sorry is hould have been here i’m_ \-- _ ” 

  
  


Hands are in his hair then hands that are both stronger than he could ever dream of being and fragile enough that Bart is sure he’ll fret about their owner for the rest of his life (what’s left of his life). Jay’s voice is soft, a mumble against his temple where his guardian whispers comforting words only broken by Bart’s own sobs. 

  
  


He’s shaking (not vibrating) and Bart holds on to the man that has become the closest thing to a father he’s ever gotten, red clad fingers curling into the baby blue fabric at his back. Kid Flash barely registers when his grandfather joins the hug, but he’s enveloped by both Flashes before he realizes what’s going on. Bart thinks it should feel suffocating--he’s  _ sure _ it shouldn’t feel comforting and loving and just  _ right _ . 

  
  


Bart holds on to Jay’s shirt, enveloped by his loved ones, and  _ grieves _ . 

  
  


// 

  
  


Jaime’s been at the Garricks’ house more times than he can remember in the past two and a half years. Whether they were simply having dinner, celebrating a birthday, an anniversary, or even the birth of the Allen twins, Jaime had always been part of the chaos that was the little house in the suburbs of Keystone City. He had cooked in their kitchen, danced in their backyard, even slept on their couch and floor--Jaime had never been a stranger in Jay and Joan’s home. 

  
  


Today, as he stood by the front gate, with his backpack slung over his shoulder, he wondered why it felt so different. 

  
  


When the door opens, it’s Iris that greets him, Don hoisted over her hip and a soft, sad smile on her lips. The toddler screams in glee when he sees Jaime, opening his arms wide and leaning forward, trying to jump from his mother’s arms and into his. With the ease of a seasoned older brother, Reyes is quick to grab the kid under his arms and bring him to himself. 

  
  


“Hey,  _ chiflado [1], _ ” Jaime coos, softly, “Nice to see you too.” 

  
  


“I’m sorry, Jaime,” Iris says, huffing slightly, “you know how the twins get when you’re around.” 

  
  


Blue Beetle shakes his head, smiling as he bumps his forehead against Don’s, “That’s okay, Iris--I’m always glad to see your little  _ tornados [2] _ \--I’m just sorry it was under these circumstances.” 

  
  


Iris sighs, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear, “I’m just happy you’re here, Jaime.” 

  
  


“I’m so sorry, Iris,” he mumbles, shuffling past the threshold when the woman steps aside, “I know how important she was to your family.” 

  
  


“Joan was important to  _ all of us _ ,” Iris stresses the last words, one of her hands coming to clutch his arm as they walk past the hallway and into the living room, “We’re here to celebrate her life, not mourn her death. It’s important we remember that.” 

  
  


Jaime swallows, eyes glassy, and nods, “You’re right.” 

  
  


“No tears!” Don’s high-pitched voice scolds, from Reyes’ arms, “No tears, no tears! Daddy said no crying!” 

  
  


“Donnie’s right,” Iris tells him, cradling her son’s face in her hand, “No crying today--come on, Donnie, it’s time for your nap and Uncle Jaime has to go say hi to everyone else, okay?” 

  
  


The toddler makes a whiny noise in the back of his throat and Jaime chuckles, nuzzling the kid’s blonde hair, “I’ll let you and Dawn climb over me when you’ve woken up, how about that,  _ pequeño ciclón [3] _ ?” 

  
  


Don thinks about this for a minute, before nodding once and turning to stretch his arms towards his mother. Iris takes her son back, telling Jaime that Jay was out back with her husband and the other Wests, and that when he was done greeting them, there was a guest room upstairs waiting for him so he could change. 

  
  


Jaime takes a deep breath, leaves his backpack on the couch, and walks back towards the kitchen door. He sees Jay sitting in one of the backyard chairs, and hears Barry’s voice even if he can’t actually see the man. Bracing himself, he walks out the door, and tries not to grimace when all eyes are on him. 

  
  


He’d first met Rudy and Mary West at Wally’s funeral. While they were the members of the Flash family he was least acquainted with, he still took his time to shake their hands and share a few short words with them, before turning towards Barry and Jay, who had both stood up from their respective chairs to meet him. Jaime knew the speedforce kept her children in top shape-- _ always _ \--but watching the two Flashes now, it felt as if grief could be stronger than even one of the strongest power sources. 

  
  


“I’m so sorry, Jay,” it’s the older man he hugs first, but the words feel all wrong, “She was a wonderful woman.” 

  
  


Jay and Joan Garrick were, in Jaime’s opinion, two of the best people the world had to offer. First, Jay had become Senior Speedster, and the Garricks cared for and fed any Flash or Kid Flash that came into their home; then, they had opened their doors to other superheroes, big and small, and had become the League’s Official Grandparents. 

  
  


It was, however, in Jaime’s  _ clearly _ objective mind, not any of this that made Jay and Joan Garrick the Best People to Have Ever Lived. 

  
  


Jay and Joan had opened their home to Bart when the younger superhero hadn’t had any other place to go. While it would’ve made sense for Kid Flash to stay with the Allens, given he was one himself, they knew that, as a recently married couple, soon to have kids, Iris and Barry were ill-equipped to actually  _ raise _ Bart for what was left of his life. Rudy and Mary had had a son of their own, whom they lost to the superhero world, and were definitely not in the right moment to house  _ another _ speedster. 

  
  


The Garricks hadn’t had any real connection to Bart, the youngest Allen hadn’t even known them in his own timeline. Still, they had taken him in without any hesitation. Jaime still remembered Jay’s words on a morning when Blue Beetle had stayed over the first few times. 

  
  


“Our lives weren’t complete until Bart came to us,” Jay’s voice had carried over the newspaper he had been reading, as Jaime blearily stared at the headline that he couldn’t make sense of, “When Wally brought him to us, we knew he was what our family needed.” 

  
  


Back then, Jaime hadn’t quite understood, but Jay was too nice to actually threaten Jaime outright. The first Flash was just making it clear how important Bart was for the Garricks and what the consequences would be if any harm were ever to befall him. Jaime would never admit to it, but he had been a little worried about it. 

  
  


Jay and Joan loved Bart the way they would their actual child, and that was enough to check them right in Jaime’s book. They were soft people, with softer voices, and stronger hearts. To know that Jay would have to go on without Joan for what was left of his life (and for Jaime’s limited knowledge of the speedforce and speedsters’ powers, he knew that would be too long a time) broke Reyes’ heart and had seriously tipped the scales of good and bad in his head. 

  
  


“She would’ve been so happy to see you here,” Jay tells him, solid hands clutching Jaime’s arms as they part their hug, “My Joan always loved when you came over.” 

  
  


Jaime stiffens, his breath hitching in his throat. While Jay was an Excellent Man, Joan was definitely who Reyes took to more. He could hold a conversation just fine with Jay, but Mrs. Garrick always made him feel right at home. She also never threatened him with implied bodily harm over Bart, so Jaime loved her even better because of it. 

  
  


“She’s going to be missed,” Jaime’s voice breaks, somewhere at the end, and he clears his throat, “but she left enough of herself in the rest of us so that her memory lives on. Joan is never going to be missing from our lives.” 

  
  


Jay gives him a soft smile, mumbling something about how Reyes was too old to be only nineteen. Blue Beetle lets out an amused sort-of breath, and turns to Barry when the first Flash moves to one side. Barry looks exhausted, like he’s only being held together by pins, and Jaime wonders for a brief moment, how it’s possible to snuff out a man that looks so much like the sun. 

  
  


“Jaime,” Barry greets, almost like a breath, and Jaime comes to hug him, “Thank you for coming. I swear to God, I can’t get him to get out of his room since this morning. Not even Donnie could get him to come out.” 

  
  
  


Jaime grimaces against Barry’s shoulder, patting his back twice, “I’ll see if I have any luck,” he says, “but you never know with him.” 

  
  


Once the Flash has stepped back, Jaime takes in a deep breath, “I’m so sorry, Barry. This must be hard for all of you…” 

  
  


Barry tries to smile at him, but it comes out looking like a wince. Off to Jaime’s side, the patio door swings open and closes again, clattering softly against the frame, and Hal Jordan cuts off the words that are still trying to form on Jaime’s lips. Allen looks like he’s about to break when his best friend comes to hug him with one arm, and Blue Beetle takes this as his cue to leave. 

  
  


_ [I detect the Bartholomew Henry Allen II in distress on the top level,] _ Khaji, who had been unusually quiet up until now, just wouldn’t let go of Bart’s complete name,  _ [Suggested tactic: companionship.] _

  
  


Jaime doesn’t bite any cutting remark back. He excuses himself from the adults out in the backyard and makes his way back into the house. Iris is standing in the kitchen, looking vacantly out the window leading to the garden while the faucet runs in the sink below her eye level. Reyes takes a deep breath and walks over to cut the running water. 

  
  


“Oh,” Iris’s voice is as vacant as her eyes, and Jaime tries not to feel drained of energy, if only for her sake, “I’m sorry. I’m just a little out of it.” 

  
  


“That’s alright,” Jaime smiles, setting one hand on her shoulder and squeezing as a sign of comfort, “I’m gonna go upstairs. Check on Bart, see if I have any more luck with him than Barry did. Where are the kids napping?” 

  
  


Iris blinks sluggishly a couple of times. Khaji counts the seconds in his head and tries to figure it out if it might mean anything at all. Jaime shushes him and allows the woman to take all the time she needs to answer. 

  
  


“Downstairs,” she finally says  _ [Thirty-three seconds is an oddly long response time] _ , “in Jay and--in the master room. I don’t think you’ll bother them upstairs. Bart’s room is on the other side of the house.” 

  
  


Jaime nods, squeezes her shoulder one last time, and goes to retrieve his backpack before making the dreaded trail up the stairs. 

  
  


_ [I estimate we have gone up these stairs a total of 1,549 times over the past 2 years _ , _ ] _ Khaji supplies, helpful as always, in that chitter voice in the back of his head,  _ [you have no reason to feel nervous or distressed _ . _ ] _

  
  


‘ _ You still have to learn about the concept of grief, Khaji, _ ’ Jaime thinks, ‘ _ Heck, I think I have to learn about the concept of grief, as well. _ ’ 

  
  


_ [The Booster Gold grieves.]  _

  
  


_ Ay, Dios _ . Not this again.

_ [I have conducted extensive research on the human emotion of grief when you suggested I do so after the Booster Gold came into our lives last year.] _

  
  


‘ _ Khaji?’  _ Jaime stops at the end of the stairs, sighing heavily, ‘ _ remember how I told you sometimes I need quiet? _ ’ 

  
  


_ [I assume by your tone this might be one of those times.]  _

  
  


‘ _ Thank you, Khaji. _ ’ 

  
  


There’s silence in his head then, and Jaime takes a moment to reorganize himself before continuing his trek towards Bart’s room, just left of the stairs. As his hand reaches the familiar doorknob, Khaji’s chittering voice comes back into his head. 

  
  


_ [I’m sorry, Jaime Reyes,]  _ the scarab says,  _ [I know it may not be of use, but the Bartholomew Henry Allen II is known to enjoy your company above others’ companies. From my research, I have concluded that being with those you enjoy the company of is a good way to work through the human emotion called grief. The Booster Gold seems to appreciate it when you’re there next to him at the Theodore Stephen Kord’s grave.]  _

  
  


Jaime thanks the scarab, not a trace of sarcasm in his thoughts, and he turns the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. The door creaks as he opens it, something he’s hated ever since he stayed in this home for the first time. He doesn’t see Bart at first, as his bed is right behind the door, but when he does, Jaime’s heart sinks in his chest. 

  
  


Bart’s room is never messy, Jaime has learned that over the years. There’s never a single thing out of place, all the clothes are always folded or hung, and the balance has never been broken unless it’s Jaime or the twins doing that. Today, everything feels out of place. Bart is curled up in his bed, covers up to his neck, and his Kid Flash suit is torn, laying on the floor in pieces. Papers are strewn over, some of them ripped, others still complete but a little crumpled. Bart’s drawings, his paintings, the things he held precious, all damaged in a probable fit of anger and grief. 

  
  


Jaime sighs sadly and closes the door behind him. 

  
  


“Hey,  _ guepardito [4] _ ?” 

  
  


Bart doesn’t answer, doesn’t even move in his place. Jaime makes his way to the bed, trying to pick up the papers that are still complete, smoothing them over with his hands so he can try to save some of them. 

  
  


“You have some space in that bed for your friend, Blue Beetle?” Jaime asks, setting down the papers he’s managed to salvage on the nightstand--a picture of Joan and Jay on the porch, sitting in the chairs Bart made for them. 

  
  


“Khaji Da can’t fit, but I don’t think you can get them off your back,” Bart’s voice is hoarse, rough around the edges, like he hasn’t spoken in days after screaming his heart out. In a thinner voice, as an afterthought, he adds, “There’s always space for you,  _ bobo [5] _ .” 

  
  


Jaime smiles at this, although it doesn’t feel quite right, and waits until Bart has wiggled some towards the wall to allow him in. They’ve shared a bed before, in missions and after nightmares, but never with so much light shining through the windows, never when Bart’s room looked like this. 

  
  


Blue Beetle slides into the space Bart has given him. His bed is bigger this time around, because Bart himself has grown and Joan had thought it proper to get him a new bed, so Jaime fits in perfectly next to him. His friend makes some weird noise in the back of his throat, and turns around, lifting the covers to wrap Jaime in them as well. 

  
  


“You know my room gets cold,” Bart mumbles, and Jaime smiles, maneuvering around the runner’s body so he can cuddle the speedster, “don’t be weird about it.” 

  
  


“We’ve shared enough beds this past two years,  _ correcaminos [6] _ ,” Jaime has an endless amount of nicknames for Bart, some of which the speedster hasn’t been able to translate, “I’m good with some cuddling.” 

  
  


“I’m good with some cuddling, says the straight man,” Bart grumbles, annoyed, burying his nose in Jaime’s chest, “shut up, we’re sleeping.” 

  
  


Jaime doesn’t say a word, but checks his watch on his left wrist just in case. They still have some time until they have to change into their suits (and he wonders, in the mess that is now Bart’s room, where his could be; it’s gonna be Future Jaime’s problem). He grants this small thing to Bart, and brings his friend closer the moment Bart’s tears start wetting his shirt. 

  
  


Jaime kisses the top of his head and mumbles soft words in spanish that he knows Bart will understand. 

  
  


“ _ Todo va a estar bien, Bart, _ ” he says, trying to believe it himself, “ _ aquí estoy. Aquí siempre voy a estar _ . [7]” 

  
  


// 

  
  


Jaime ends up fighting with Bart over the suit.

  
  


It’s quite simple, of course. Bart has to wear the suit, but Bart doesn’t want to wear it, so he’s hidden it. Jaime has a small, gut-wrenching moment where he pictures the very expensive suit torn and destroyed somewhere in Bart’s closet, but discards it just as quickly when he remembers Joan had given Bart that suit personally. It’s still nowhere to be found, but it’s not torn at least. 

  
  


(Not like Kid Flash’s suit. Jaime will have to contact the woman who made it for him and Barry last year so he can buy Bart a new one.) 

  
  


“I’m not going!” 

  
  


Back to the matter at hand. 

  
  


“Bart, stop doing this,” Jaime pleads, moving out of the way when Bart throws yet another unidentifiable object at him, “we have to get ready. It’s not fair to Jay.” 

  
  


“Don’t use Jay against me!” Bart screams right back, angry, hurt and probably feeling betrayed that his best friend is making him do this, “I told Barry I wasn’t going!”

  
  


The entire family has gathered around the bottom of the stairs. None of them have come up, per Jaime’s request, but they’re standing by patiently. The kids are outside with Iris, trying to keep them busy and away from Bart’s wrath. Jay sits in one of the couches, without making a sound. 

  
  


The Green Lantern, at least, seems to be having some fun, creating constructs to catch the objects Bart has been throwing at Jaime for the past 5 minutes. 

  
  


“Bart, come on!” Barry calls out from his place, looking distressed and about to pass out from sheer exhaustion, “Stop acting like a child!” 

  
  


“I  _ am _ a child! Leave me  _ alone _ ! I don’t want to go!” 

  
  


Another object. Jaime recognizes the watercolor pad he got for Bart’s 15th birthday this year and catches it mid-air, “You could’ve told me you didn’t like it! No need to get violent with me!” 

  
  


“At least the door’s open, right?” Hal’s voice mumbles, creating a construct next to Jaime so the older boy can put the sketchpad down gently. 

  
  


Barry tells his friend to shut up, so the Green Lantern does. Jaime would like to remind Hal that the only reason this door is open still is because Khaji Da is keeping it open while Reyes tries to reason with an angry speedster. And is being used as an accuracy target. 

  
  


Jaime opens his mouth to say another thing, but Barry’s small exclamation cuts him short. Behind him, the stairs creak, slowly, as someone comes up the stairs, and Jaime makes the stupid mistake of turning around. He gets a book (a  _ hard _ book) to the back of his head, but is kind of glad to see Jay coming up to meet him. 

  
  


“You’ve done more than enough, Jaime,” Jay tells him, stopping the next object before it hits Jaime’s chest, “I think you should go get ready while I reason with the boy.” 

  
  


There’s really no room for argument, so Jaime nods as Khaji Da retreats the claw they had been using to keep the door open. Jay’s inside the room in the blink of an eye and closing the door behind him, so Blue Beetle considers the matter done. 

  
  


Later, once Jaime has gotten into his suit and Iris has knotted his tie, they’re all still waiting out on the porch. The tornado twins seem to have settled down after their nap and are sitting on each side of Reyes, holding each of his hands in silence. The kids seem to be just now taking it all in, but they hadn’t known Joan long enough to grieve her death in the same way the adults were. 

  
  


Iris still seems out of it and Barry looks like he’ll vibrate out of his own suit. Hal Jordan seems to be the only one keeping it together. Jaime wonders if Hal is to Barry what he is to Bart, and promises to ask Hal all the “being best friends with a speedster” tips once this is all over. 

  
  


“Maybe we should respect his wishes,” Jaime mumbles after a while, when Dawn has sneaked her way under his arm and over his lap, “Bart has never acted like this.” 

  
  


“He’s being a child,” comes Barry’s biting response, and Reyes notices only now how much the Flash is struggling to keep it together, “it’s Joan’s funeral, for goodness sake--he should be there, like the rest of us.” 

  
  


For some reason, this makes Jaime angry  _ [it is irrational to attack the Flash, as he wins over us in experience, but he should be incinerated for attacking the Bartholomew Henry Allen II like this] _ . 

  
  


“You’re being unfair to him,” Jaime tries to not sound pissed off, but judging by Hal’s raised eyebrow, he probably failed, “He’s  _ fifteen _ , Mr. Allen,” his mother always taught him to respect his elders, no matter how pissed off he was, “and this is the second time he’s had to deal with his family dying. I’m sorry if I’m speaking out of line, but he’s my best friend and I think maybe we should respect what he wants.” 

  
  


Before Barry has any chance to say something back, Hal is grabbing him by the shoulder, effectively cutting him off. The door behind them creaks open, and Bart comes out, eyes red and puffy, with Jay just behind him. He’s wearing the suit, and a very loose black tie around his neck. Jaime has a hard time trying to turn to look at him, with the twins on his lap, but he does manage to catch a glimpse of his friend. 

  
  


“Well, the kid has joined us,” Hal says, moving to grab Bart’s shoulder instead and pulling him into a one-armed hug, “why don’t we all pile up into our cars and get going?” 

  
  


The twins immediately want to ride along with Hal, of course, but their seats are in Iris’ mini-van, so Jaime is tasked with helping her strap them in. Green Lantern talks to Barry, saying something in a whisper, while also looking concerned for his friend. Barry nods a couple of times and grimaces, before turning around to file into the Allen mini-van with no more words. 

  
  


“Do you want me to drive?” Jaime asks Iris, just as the tornadoes are strapped in and ready, “I have my permit already, I feel like you need it.” 

  
  


Iris smiles warmly at him, but shakes her head, “I think you should head over with Hal. I think Bart needs you more than I do.” 

  
  


Jaime doesn’t argue, even though he feels as if Bart hates him right now. He walks back to where Hal’s old green Malibu is parked and takes in a deep breath. The Green Lantern is halfway into the driver's seat and offers him a quiet smile before sliding inside and turning the ignition key. Jay comes behind him, patting his back without so much as a word, and climbs in the passenger’s side. Jaime stops for a moment, steeling himself, before peeking into the backseat, where Bart is already inside. The speedster is looking out the window, one arm tucked under his chest, hugging himself, while the other keeps his head upright as green eyes stare straight ahead into the bush on the other side of the street. 

  
  


Jaime sighs, grabbing the handle and tugging at it. The Blue Beetle slides into the car, but doesn’t move closer to Bart like he would’ve had they not fought earlier. Instead, he closes the door, grabs the seatbelt, and clicks it into place, far away from his best friend. 

  
  


Before Hal can start moving, Bart heaves a shaky sigh, and scooches closer to Jaime’s side of the seat. Jaime welcomes him, thankful that he’s not actually all that angry with him (or that, at least, he still requires his comfort) and opens his left arm to allow Bart to cuddle closer to him. Allen has gotten taller in the past couple of years he’s been in the past (and, according to Khaji Da’s constant predictions, he’ll get taller than Jaime by the time Reyes hits 21) so the logistics of hugging and being close to one another has started to change recently. Jaime doesn’t mind getting hit in the ribs with Bart’s elbow. He knows Bart needs him close right now. 

  
  


(Or maybe it’s Jaime that needs Bart close. To remind himself that he can still be of help at all. He doesn’t really know.) 

  
  


“Thanks for staying.” 

  
  


Jaimie exhales, not aware he had been holding a breath in, and tightens his hold around Bart, “You know it,  _ guepardito _ .” 

  
  


// 

  
  


Once they’re at the funeral home, Bart doesn’t remember much. He remembers being cuddled up to Jaime’s side, that annoying playlist in Hal’s Malibu since he got that stupid cassette stuck in his old radio, and Jay’s soft voice humming along to some of the songs. After that, events become kind of blurry. 

  
  


Iris comes to him and straightens his tie at some point, but Barry won’t even speak to him. Bart would like to scream at him some more, if that were possible, but he knows it’s not the time nor the place to bring up his teenage angst withhis grandfather. Jay’s presence is a constant through the whole thing, except for when he stands up to say something about Joan. Bart completely forgets everything his caretaker just said, but it doesn’t eat him as much as he thought it would. 

  
  


Jaime’s by his side. At all times.

  
  


It’s the one thing he holds on through it all, Jaime’s entire presence. The heat coming from his body, his voice when he talks to someone and the way his hand always seems close to Bart’s back, pressing and herding him to the right direction. A fine allegory to their friendship.

  
  


He ends up lodged up in his art study in the garage once they’re back. He can’t have people trying to talk to him anymore, or hugging him telling him how sorry they are. Bart feels like he could vibrate out of his skin right now, and that’s not something he wants to do in front of Jay and Joan’s old non-superhero friends. 

  
  


So, he sits here. On the floor of the studio Jay had set-up for him and Joan had furnished soon after. Before him, one of his newer watercolors. He’d been working on it for a couple of months now, even though he’s never taken this long with anything before. There was always something else that took his attention, like some stupid mission or some school thing he had to get done. 

  
  


He smuggled his watercolors and supplies to Joan’s hospital room whenever he could. Although he had started it way before his caretaker had been admitted into the hospital, and the Joan that he wanted to capture wasn’t the Joan in a bed, Bart knew how much she actually enjoyed watching him paint. She had added her own chair to his studio pretty soon after Jay finished setting it up, so he thought it was only fair to share this with her while she was stuck in bed. 

  
  


He came here to finish, still in his suit. 

  
  


“Hey, Bart?” Jaime’s voice brings him out of his stupor, “I’m sorry, do you want to be alone?” 

  
  


Bart turns to look at him, smiling softly, and pats the spot next to him on the floor, “That’s okay. I’m done with my tantrum.” 

  
  


His best friend comes to sit crossed legged next to him, staring at the finally finished portrait. Jaime’s already changed back into his jeans and sweatshirt, and he’s holding a plate of food in one of his hands and a fork on the other. With no sound, he passes the food to Bart. 

  
  


“How long have I been here?” 

  
  


Jaime shrugs, passing the fork over “Couple of hours, at most. Jay and I got Barry to leave you alone, but Iris is worried that you haven’t eaten.” 

  
  


Bart takes the utensil. The plate is warm underneath, but not so much that it burns. He recognizes Booster Gold’s famous mac n cheese, and Mrs. Reyes’ famous tuna  _ tortitas _ that she only makes during lent or when Bart begs a lot. 

“Did you somehow travel through the entire states to get me food?” 

  
  


Jaime laughs, shaking his head, “Please, just eat.” 

  
  


“Wait, but I’m curious!” Bart continues, placing the plate of food in front of him, “Did you actually go cross-country asking your mom to make me my favorite dish and telling Booster to whip out mac n cheese?” 

  
  


“I cooked, Bart,” Jaime finally says, rolling his eyes, “you do realize I’ve been living on my own for a while, right?” 

  
  


“You can cook  _ tortitas _ , [8]” Bart says, and places the hand holding the fork on his heart, “and you never told me?” 

  
  


“Don’t be dramatic,” Jaime tells him, taking the plate and putting it back on Bart’s lap, “just eat.” 

  
  


Bart doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s never really tasted Jaime’s cooking, but he knows that his best friend is very good at following instructions. If Reyes actually got the recipes down, Bart is  _ sure _ that they’re just as good as the original ones. 

  
  


Bart takes in the first bite and-- _ Oh _ .

  
  


“Jaime,  _ hermano _ ,” Bart talks around a mouthful of mac n cheese, eyes closed, “this is the best goddamn mac n cheese I’ve ever tasted.” 

  
  


“Damn right, it is,” Jaime says, almost too cocky for his own good, but Bart can’t fight it, “ _ tortitas,  _ too. They’re not better than my mom’s, but they’re pretty decent.” 

  
  


“I’ll be the judge of that.” 

  
  


As it turns out, Jaime’s  _ tortitas  _ are better than Bianca’s, but Bart’s not about to say any of that. If Mrs. Reyes didn’t listen to him very often when he begged for them, he was sure Jaime was going to be even worse than her, so he can’t let him know he adores his  _ tortitas _ . Instead, Bart compliments him, but tells him Bianca’s  _ tortitas _ are undefeated. It’s the safest bet. 

  
  


After Bart is done, the art studio is quiet. 

  
  


“Eduardo’s here,” Jaime tells him, at some point, “he asked me to tell you that.” 

  
  


Bart sighs, lowering his head down to Jaime’s lap, “Thank you, Jaime.” 

  
  


“I think he doesn’t like that Iris sent me instead,” his best friend adds, as an afterthought, “but he did tell me he was glad I was here for you, at least.” 

  
  


“He doesn’t hate you,” Bart insists,  _ again _ \--they’ve had this conversation before, “don’t make a fuss.” 

  
  


“I wasn’t.” 

  
  


Silence again. Bart can distinguish the faint humming coming from Jaime’s back, “Khaji Da’s been very quiet today.” 

  
  


“They want me to tell you that I submitted them into silence,” Jaime says, with no little amount of amusement in his voice, “I needed some peace and quiet in my head for once.” 

  
  


“Yeah,” Bart answers, absentmindedly, “I get that.” 

  
  


“They want me to tell you that…” Jaime pauses, like he’s thinking about what he’s going to say, and then continues, “they’re sorry. They can’t quite grasp the concept of grief just yet, but they realize you’re having a hard time, and they’re sorry for that.” 

  
  


Bart smiles, shaking his head, “Tell me what they really said, Jaime.” 

  
  


Jaime huffs, “How are you so certain they didn’t say that?” 

  
  


“Because I know that bug as well as I know you,” Allen tells him, turning to look up at him, “so just tell me what they said.” 

“Fine,” Reyes sighs, “they said they’re sorry that this is going to affect your mission performance and that they has several suggested tactics to increase your endorphin, serotonin, dopamine and oxytocin levels, if necessary.” 

  
  


“Oh, yeah?” Bart’s curiosity is piqued, “what does Khaji suggest?” 

  
  


Jaime waits, cocking his head to one side like he always does when he’s paying attention to the beetle and he thinks no one is watching. Bart watches in rapt attention, just as Reyes’ cheeks become a deep red, and he splutters something in spanish, before coming right back to english. 

  
  


“I’m not gonna tell him that!” 

  
  


Bart laughs, “What did they say?” 

  
  


“I’m  _ not _ going to tell you what this stupid  _ bicho _ [9] said,” Jaime tells him, looking down at him with red cheeks, “they just lost talking privileges.” 

  
  


“You’re no fun, Jaime Reyes,” Bart tells him, poking his chest, “I wanna know what they said.” 

  
  


“You don’t need to know,” his best friend insists, poking back, “they’re being alien.” 

  
  


“Isn’t that considered offensive?” Bart asks, poking Jaime once again. 

  
  


“Khaji says it might be,” Jaime hums, “but that they take no offense. To them, _we_ are also alien.” 

  
  


“ _ Buen punto _ , [10]” Bart counters, finally letting his hand fall down, and then adds, “what do you think?” 

  
  


“Well, alien is a subjective word, right?” Jaime answers, but it’s not at all what Bart had been asking, “We call Khaji Da alien because he comes from away, but  _ gringos _ have been calling me  _ alien _ for years.” 

  
  


“Not that,” Bart lets out an amused sort of breath, “although we might need to revisit this conversation at a later time,” Allen considers himself for a moment, noticing how hot he feels on his suit now, “I meant the portrait.” 

  
  


Jaime’s brown eyes turn away from Bart then, choosing instead to focus on the work of art in front of him. The speedster takes this moment to survey his own piece, thinking it might’ve been a bad idea to bring attention back to it. Kid Flash can now point out at least 38 different mistakes that he should’ve fixed before actually letting someone else see it. 

  
  


“It’s beautiful, Bart,” Jaime says, and Bart thinks he might sound a little breathless, “I think this is one of your finer works.” 

  
  


“You think so?” Bart can’t help the small break in his voice when he says it, but he does try to swallow down the knot in his throat before he speaks again, “You don’t think it’s too much?” 

  
  


Jaime shakes his head, “I think she would’ve been very happy with it,  _ guepardito _ .”

  
  


“I think the flowers look kinda dull,” Bart muses, looking away from Jaime, “I feel like maybe watercolors weren’t the right medium for this portrait.” 

  
  


“Bart,” Jaime’s hands are on his chin, gently pushing Allen to look at his friend again, “the flowers look wonderful. Watercolors are your strong suit. I don’t think anything else would’ve done her justice.” 

  
  


The speedster is really trying not to burst into tears, but it’s kinda hard when he’s looking straight at Jaime’s warm eyes, “I think she would’ve looked beautiful in anything I painted her in,” he sniffles, trying to keep himself at bay, “and yet, maybe I’m wrong.” 

  
  


Jaime brushes a thumb under his right eye, stopping a tear from falling into his hair, “I’m sure you’re right,  _ guepardito. _ ” 

  
  


Bart falls asleep on Jaime’s lap and doesn’t wake up until the next morning. 

  
  


// 

  
  


“You should’ve woken me up,” Bart tells Jaime, as he brushes his teeth, “you didn’t need to carry me like a baby.” 

  
  


“Khaji thought it was necessary,” Jaime bites back, leaning against the bathroom door, “and I was very uncomfortable, I didn’t have anything to lean against, so I had to get up.” 

  
  


Bart spits into the sink and opens the faucet to rinse his mouth before speaking again, “I’m surprised I didn’t wake up.” 

  
  


Jaime shrugs, tossing the towel at his face, “I’m surprised, too, but I’m glad you rested.” 

  
  


“Are you going soft on me?” the speedster throws the towel at his friend again, and runs out of the place before Jaime can react.

  
  


As soon as Bart’s feet hit the last step on their stairs, he comes to a full stop, hand still over the railing. His heart, beating loudly in his ears, is the only thing he can hear, and the soft brushes of the same flowers he had painted in watercolors only a day ago, the only thing he could see.

  
  


“I could never go soft on you,” Jaime shoots back, making his way downstairs, “who would keep you on your toes?” 

  
  


“Jaime…” Allen’s soft exhale is barely audible, but tears are already pooling at his eyes, “You….” 

  
  


“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jay comes out from the kitchen, smiling pleasantly at the painting hung on the wall above their fireplace, “I think it fits our home just fine.” 

  
  


“Jaime, did you…?” 

  
  


“I remembered I had a nice frame at home I hadn’t used,” Jaime passes him on the stairs, patting him on the back, as if he hadn’t just hung Bart the moon, “I thought she’d like it better here, no? She always bragged about how good an artist you were.” 

  
  


Bart walks, almost robotically, to the place where Joan’s painting hung, and stares at it for a long while. It’s his own, he knows, but looking at it up there, over the fireplace, instead of at his art studio in the garage--it hits him differently. In it, Bart had painted Joan’s flowers all around her, in various colors, as she stood in the middle of her garden, tending to the marigolds that Bart had begged her to plant earlier that year. She was wearing her red apron, the one Barry gave her that had a lightning bolt embroidered into it, and that big hat that Bart had bought for her when he noticed the sun gave her headaches. 

  
  


He stands there for a while, and admires the elegant frame Jaime had gotten for it. It was carved wood, painted in a deep red. Elegant, but simple, just like Joan always was. 

  
  


It also was the exact same frame where Jaime had insisted he would hang his engineering diploma once he got it. Bart knew it because he had teased his best friend about it a thousand times over. 

  
  


“Oh, by the way,” Jaime’s voice cuts through his thoughts, suddenly, as the man talks around a mouthful of pancake, “Eduardo said he’d come by today, too. Just so you know.” 

  
  


Bart stares at him for all of three seconds. His brain is moving a mile per minute, but everything around him slows down. He takes a second to amaze over Jaime’s warm eyes and long lashes, another one to just feel that warmth low in his belly, and the third one to bask in it’s peacefulness. 

  
  


Once he’s done, he lunges forward, and wraps his arms around his best friend, hiding his face in the crook of Jaime’s neck, “ _ Gracias _ ,” it’s been his most difficult word to learn, for some reason, and he chokes around his pronunciation, “I’ll get you a new frame. I promise.” 

  
  


“That’s okay,  _ guepardito _ ,” Jaime’s voice is soft, smoother than velvet (or so Bart assumes, he’s never touched velvet or Jaime’s voice for that matter), “I think it looks better on her than it would on me.” 

  
  


Bart laughs around a sob, and tightens his arms around Jaime, “You could  _ not _ pull off red.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some quick translation for the words and phrases in spanish, as always: 
> 
> [1] chiflado: roughly translates to spoiled, but we tend to use it in a very caring way, especially when we're talking to children or even our romantic partners; I call my boyfriend chiflado all the time when he's needy, but never mean anything mean by it. 
> 
> [2] tornados: literally tornadoes, some words are just easy to translate. 
> 
> [3] pequeño ciclón: small cyclone. 
> 
> [4] guepardito: means little cheetah, I stole this from National_Nobody (again, go read her fic, it's GENUIS) and honestly it's the only appropriate nickname for Bart from now on. 
> 
> [5] bobo: very flexible word, can be translated to idiot or stupid, but bobo is less mean than those other words. This was coined in by Lyssa, because she loves that word. 
> 
> [6] correcaminos: road-runner, another very accurate nickname for Bart. 
> 
> [7] Todo va a estar bien, Bart, aquí estoy, aquí siempre voy a estar: Everything will be alright, Bart, I am here, I will always be here. (Jaime's the softest man.)
> 
> [8] tortitas: it's literally fried tuna...I have no idea how to not make that sound disgusting, I ASSURE you it's the most delicious food I have ever tasted in my entire life and Bart would LOVE THEM. 
> 
> [9] bicho: bug. 
> 
> [10] buen punto: fair point. I'm a sucker for Bart actually learning spanish so he can talk to Jaime's family more comfortably. Especially the ones that live in Juárez and not in El Paso. 
> 
> That would be all from me. If anyone can calculate how many times a day Jaime has gone up and down the stairs in the Garrick's home during the past two and a half years I will absolutely owe you everything I own because Lyssa and I did not bother checking if that number actually panned out in the big scheme of things, so if it turns out Jaime's being going up and down Bart's stair for 20 times a day, then let's just assume that it's normal and not at all weird. 
> 
> Please don't be angry at Barry for being irrationally upset at his grandchild. I always pictured Barry as processing death through misplaced anger. He's probably been very high strung since Wally's death and now that Joan, who was a mother to him through the years, has also passed, he's probably having a hard time. Remember our favorite speedster is also human (meta, sure, but human) and he deserves to grieve in his own personal way. If you guys are interested in how Barry and Bart work out their issues after this, I'd be glad to write something up to appease our collective minds. 
> 
> Also, I had to work around the ending of episode 18, "Early Warning" because I'm always trying to fit myself around canon while also bending it very violently, so there's mentions of Eduardo here because he was, indeed, supposed to be at the funeral. Jaime and he don't have any actual feud between them, I think it's just their personalities that constantly clash (also, sharing your best friend is kinda suckish sometimes). Please don't make this a ship war, because it's not, I'm very much clearly a bluepulse shipper, and I will probably keep writing things about these two boys being in love and working through life in their own very personal manner. 
> 
> That being said, I felt like this particular fic needed Jaime to be more of a friend to Bart than a lover, and I hope you all understand that sometimes, grief works like that. Hopefully, after this, I can start writing my version of season 3 where Wally West is in fact stuck in the speedforce and Bart and Jaime are slowly, but very surely, falling in love with one another without even noticing. 
> 
> I hope you all stay safe, healthy, and keep your loved ones safe and healthy as well. This, too, shall pass, but it's time to be conscious and follow the appropriate instructions. I send you all much love from Mexico and hope we can soon go back to taking the streets and hugging one another.


End file.
